More Than Cards and Flowers
by TutorGirlml
Summary: Killian plans a sweet Valentine's surprise for his lady love, and gets some help from an unexpected quarter.


"More than Cards and Flowers"

By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on )

 _Happy Valentine's to everyone reading this – even if it's a day late! I just wanted to write a bit of festive fluff and feels, and beyond that, this one shot was also borne of my desire to have Killian and Snow White share some bonding time, and to develop for them the sort of friendship and understanding he and David seem to have found. This may not have the amount of steamy CS interaction one might generally see in a Valentine's one shot, but it's definitely still very much CS._

 _Please enjoy! I don't own them, but I would love to hear what you think…_

"So, Killian, if you don't mind me asking," Snow spoke up curiously from the bowl of forming meringue that she had been carefully whipping into peaks for the last few minutes. "Why was I the one you called?"

At her question, Killian Jones chanced a brief, darting glance up to meet Emma's royal mother's eyes. The apples of his cheeks and tips of his slightly pointed ears are flushed red – he can feel the heat of them – but there is no going back now. "You seemed the best candidate to approach for advice on modern cooking and appliances, Milady," he offered mildly. Truth, to be sure, but he sensed she could read him nearly as well as Emma would in that moment and could tell it wasn't the whole reason.

Shaking her head, Snow pressed mischievously, "Oh really? Me? With the soft spot that Granny seems to have for you?"

He snorted here, humored in spite of himself. "Aye, well, though the Lady Lucas does have her charms," he shrugged with a rapscallion's smirk, "I was hoping for something a bit fancier than meatloaf or grilled cheese." He scratched behind his ear sheepishly and added, "Not to mention that, this surprise being for Emma, I felt you would be the one motivated as I was to make the holiday wonderful for her, your Majesty."

Snow White's lovely features sobered and gentled immediately at his words; her heart melting as she reached over to lay her soft hand on his forearm. She didn't speak for several moments, merely waiting patiently, kindly, for him to lift his eyes to hers once more. When her daughter's True Love finally did just that, the emotion in their blue depths nearly stole her breath. "I'm happy to help you," she responded hoarsely, blinking back tears at the obvious devotion this man held for her daughter, at the knowledge that her lost little girl was finally cherished as she should always have been.

Killian nodded, graciously ignoring the mistiness in the Princess' eyes and going back to the lemon filling she had instructed him on; pouring it into the pie crust they had already completed without spilling.

Snow regained her composure quickly and moved to his side, encouraging as he smoothed the filling just so and then ladled the meringue on top of the dessert. She gave him her own sheepish smile as they stepped back to admire their handiwork. "That looks beautiful," she pronounced, nudging him in the ribs conspiratorially in a way that both surprised him and reminded him pleasantly of her daughter.

"We did manage quite well, didn't we?" he acknowledged, his own playful grin back in place at her return to lightheartedness. The whole meal he had planned out was nearly ready – the roast with seasoned potatoes and carrots was keeping warm in the oven, as was the loaf of buttery French bread. A salad was ready in the refrigerator, and the dining room table that they rarely used was set with the fine china Snow had brought two settings of upon his request. Not that there was anything wrong with the hodgepodge of everyday flatware in the drawers of he and Emma's cupboard, but he had wanted to set a more elegant mood, if just this once. Yet another reason he had thought of Emma's mother – if anyone in this madcap town would have the sort of china fit for royalty, it should be its rightful sovereign, whether or not the petite brunette at his side made a habit of putting on such airs.

"So, why lemon meringue pie?" Snow asked, carrying the dirty dishes, mixing bowls, and measuring cups to the sink to begin clean-up as he started to put away the scattered ingredients from all their concoctions. She was soon elbow deep in the sudsy warm water, and though he had yet to answer her question, moving here and there behind her in the kitchen, opening and closing drawers and wiping down the countertop, the quiet wasn't awkward, and she waited patiently, sensing that he was gathering his thoughts, not refusing her or hiding.

When she felt him at her side again, Snow paused raising her hands from the dish water and wiping them dry. The pirate's voice rasped huskily when he spoke now. "Though we didn't have anything like this white fluff you call 'meringue', me mum would make custard flavored with lemons from our garden for my brother Liam and I on special occasions. This reminds me of it a bit, and … after all these ages…there's not so very much I do remember of her. If that makes any sense."

In that moment, though she had felt pleased and honored that he called her all day as they worked together, talked and laughed and became better acquainted like they should have long before, Snow White realized just how much she and Captain Hook truly had in common. This particular pain he was laying bare was one more of those things. "I know what you mean," she offered softly. "I lost my mother very young as well. I'm fond of anything she loved as well."

He shrugged, the smile he offered then a lopsided, tremulous thing, though clearly he appreciated her commiseration, even if he aimed for levity once more. "And besides, what better treat for Emma than something much like her? A bit tart at first, but sweet in the end," he asked with a look in his eyes which told Snow the man her daughter loved was thinking of their first meeting, how far they had come, and all their meetings since then.

After only a few hours in his company, Snow began to see just why Charming had stopped antagonizing the man and come to like him so much. She laughed in surprise at his words, struck by the spark of truth in them, even as a jest. Putting the last dish in the drainer, she toweled off her hands and moved to begin gathering her jacket, purse, and other belongings, still shaking her head at his apt way with words. "I think you have things well in hand now Captain," she stated with a little nod of approval and affectionate grin.

Killian followed her solicitously as she made her way to the door, but as she was about to leave, the Princess turned sober once more, reaching out to clasp the pirate's one hand in both of hers intently. "Killian, she's going to love this," Snow assured, patting his hand sweetly. "I – I may not have been quick enough to see… may not have understood at first… but you are exactly the person Emma needs… exactly the Truest Love I would have wished for my daughter to have. She opened her heart to love – a home, her family – _at last_ and you've had a bigger part in her allowing us in than I've ever acknowledged. _Thank you._ "

He swallowed a monumental lump in his throat at her heartfelt sentiment. For a few moments, his throat worked as he tried to swallow well enough to respond, to thank her and let her know just how much her words meant to him, but nothing came. For the barest flash, Snow was tempted to joke about actually making him speechless, as in truth her daughter probably would, but she couldn't bring herself to break the moment between them.

In the next instant, one genuinely emotional pirate was enveloping her in a tight hug that lasted for several healing moments. It came completely natural to her to wrap maternal hands around him as well and to rub his back soothingly until they both at last pulled away, much comforted.

Not long after, she was leaving, headed down the walk and letting herself out through the gate in their white picket fence. She looked back with a little wave to find him watching after her from the doorway, returning the gesture. And her mother's heart was at peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 3

Half an hour later, when Emma returned from her shift at the station where she had been comforting a worried Archie over noise complaints against Pongo from his neighbor – a crabby widow, Ms. Hubbard, who had somehow put eight kids through college with no discernible income. Now she seemed bored with them all out of the nest and spent her days searching the town over looking for someone new to get into it with. Shaking her head as she hung her coat on the rack in the entryway, Emma wondered briefly how the people in this town managed all of their odd, petty grievances before she came along. Graham had possessed the patience and kind nature of a saint in the short time she had served as his deputy, but some days their nonsense bordered on the absurd.

It was only when she turned to move further into the house that Emma realized how oddly quiet it was, how dim the lights, and that her pirate had yet to greet her at the door with a kiss, as had become their custom. Immediately going on high alert – having been through enough and separated from him enough times – Emma narrowed her eyes and stepped forward quietly, magic sparking between her palms. "Killian?" she called out softly, "Are you here?"

He didn't answer, but at her next step, her foot came down on something that crinkled like paper packaging. Training her gaze on the floor in the murky evening light, Emma saw an unopened packet of instant hot chocolate. Glancing ahead, she saw several more packs placed every few feet in a path down the hall and around the corner into the dining room. Then she registered the flicker of candlelight in that direction as well, and she was finally greeted by Killian's warm, sonorous voice, a hint of affectionate glee in his tone. "I'm here, Love, just follow the trail."

Though Emma had certainly caught on that her pirate had something up his sleeve, when she entered the room the scene he had set still stunned her for several speechless moments, disbelief that he would have gone to all this trouble flummoxing her, though when it came to her romantically old-fashioned gentleman, she really should have long stopped being surprised. The room was dim, but tall taper candles stood on the table and around the room on every available surface, lending a romantic glow. He had gotten ahold of some lovely, delicate crystal dishes that definitely didn't belong to them, and there was an entire, heavenly-smelling banquet laid out before her ready to eat.

Most enticing of all was the breathtaking man standing at the head of the table, his gaze locked on her from across the room with love in his limitless blue eyes. Emma found herself running a tempted tongue over her lips, and though her stomach might have been rumbling when she came in the door, she was suddenly hungry for something more than food as she took him in from head to toe. That wild shock of soft, thick black hair that she loved to run her fingers through had been mostly tamed and tempted her to touch once more. He wore a charcoal grey button-up – only partially buttoned, her mind corrected salaciously – and dark wash blue jeans that clung in all the right places all the way down his lean, toned legs to his bare feet. It struck her briefly that she was in so deep there might be no saving her if she found even this man's toes sexy, but a thrill ran through her all the same as the blood heated right in her veins.

There was a twinkle in his eye as her gaze returned to Killian's face, and she also caught sight of the bunch of bright yellow buttercups in his hand. They had spoken once, some months ago of her wrist tattoo and the reasons she had chosen such a simple little flower, but of course he would remember that detail about her which no one else knew.

"Like what you see, Swan?" he queried teasingly, waggling those eyebrows of his almost indecently in accompaniment to his words.

That was all it took. With something between a ravenous growl and a heated moan, Emma gritted out, "You know I do," and was across the room clutching his lapels as desperately as she had the first time in Neverland's jungle long ago, pulling him in to kiss the smirk right off of his ridiculously smoldering face. Her hands were in his hair, her thumbs stroking his cheeks, and he released a little groan himself under her onslaught.

Suffice it to say, the dinner he and Snow had prepared so lavishly – he blushed to the very tips of his "elf ears" as she playfully called them at her delight in learning that her mom had helped him – was a bit cool by the time they feasted on it instead of each other. By that time, Killian had also unwrapped Emma's gift for him: silky, red, and right there beneath her clothes waiting for him to discover. Emma enjoyed most of her dinner perched in his lap and wearing his discarded shirt.

It was a very good Valentine's evening.

And nearly a month later, it is Emma who calls Snow to let her know the truth of just how well things had gone with she and her soon-to-be son-in-law's Valentine surprise. Nearly ready to burst with happiness, Emma speaks through laughter and joyous tears to announce, "Mom, you're going to have a second grandchild."


End file.
